


iris to gray iris

by orphan_account



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Kid Sides (Sanders Sides), No beta we die like Pride!Roman, Other, Teenager Sides (Sanders Sides)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:55:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28695795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The Dark sides and Light sides always exist; no matter what universe, no matter what story, they’re always there. But there’s no point to it. Everyone has the ability to become a hero or a villain.Who cares about those old labels, anyway?
Relationships: Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, TO BE DETERMINED - Relationship
Kudos: 5





	iris to gray iris

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!! Thank you for choosing to read this fic! I had fun writing this, but I don’t have a beta and I didn’t really have the time to proofread it, so I just kind of posted it. Please give constructive criticism and help me become a better writer!! :D
> 
> TW: I don’t believe there are any! Please let me know if there are, or if you need something to be tagged!

Logan was used to arguments.

He was used to the metaphorical walls they would all build up to protect them from the metaphorical firing of bullets.

Logan was used to insults.

He was used to the metaphorical pellets shooting through his fortress of safety and warmth, leaving him shaking from the cold.

Logan was used to being ignored.

He was used to the cold biting at his fingertips, gnawing at his face as he cried for help, not expecting an answer.

Logan wasn’t used to _chaos_.

The mindplace was in shambles; the two creativities were screaming, yelling and lashing out at each other with their wooden sticks and bats and each blaming the other for the small... inconvenience. Morality was in pieces, trying to stop the fights whilst simultaneously attempting to resolve the issue at hand. Deceit, whilst they acted calmly, seemed about to burst if the noise didn’t silence and they couldn’t get to the problem.

There was an aura surrounding the commonspace, and this was quite an issue. All sides, no matter what “side” they were on (Logan didn’t understand the point of separating people into categories; it was pointless, so he remained neutral), could visit the commons without fear of being dragged to the other side or being labelled as treacherous by their fellow teammate. Would that be the word he was looking for?

See, auras have a big meaning to the sides. They often mean a particular area has been taken over by a group, be it dark or light. (Logan was annoyed that neither team would accept that he did not wish to join them, and they refused to believe he was on neither side. They would change what they believed his side to be depending on how it would suit their argument.) The commonplace was created for the sole purpose of it to be neutral, and to _stay_ neutral. It was off-limits.

Obviously, the others would start to get violent (or upset, in Morality’s case [Deceit was confused, but they daren’t ask Remus in case he had done something and the snake side were to become responsible]) when an odd aura had taken over the commons. It wasn’t reminiscent of either sides, but there was definitely something different there. He just wasn’t sure what, yet.

Logan took a seat on one of the comfier chairs; he was taking a short break before he got back to his duties, and was allowing Thomas a moment of peace before he got back to helping him study. He had a feeling the drama student would be thankful, considering the mass panic that was surely about to occur.

He sighed, glancing to the bookshelf beside him before leaning forwards again to examine the books aligned on it. The room he was in was ‘his’ room.

It wasn’t actually his; it wasn’t made for him, anyway. He had adopted it as his own, as the one in the light sides had always made him feel uncomfortable, and he was never living with Remus if he could help it. Not that there was anything wrong with Remus, of course. The intrusive side constantly needed something to do, however, and Logan was his favorite person to ask things seeing as he was usually the only one able to provide an answer.

The room was closed off from the others. There were no accessible windows to see in from the outside, the only window touching the very top of the ceiling and snapping sideways to turn a corner, covering the whole of the roof and allowing Logic to see the stars if he so wished. The doorway directly opened to the commons, and the only key was on his person at all times. The other door lead into a lounge area, much alike the ones the light sides and dark sides had. He had assumed it was Thomas’ mind subconsciously making room for the smarter side, but the thought that it might have been Roman or Remus helping him out had occurred to him. The wall behind his chair was painted a dark blue, white splodges forming constellations covering the cream plaster.

*Thump!*

Logan startled, jumping in his seat slightly. His head jerked up and frantic eyes glanced around his room, looking for the source of the sound. His irises caught onto the open doorway that lead to the commons. He hummed thoughtfully, standing up and brushing himself off before walking towards the dark, wooden frame and leaning out to eye the commonspace. Maybe this would be the answer to the mystery of the aura, too.

There was... a side.

There was an unknown side standing like they had just been caught committing a murder, looming over a fallen cushion. Their head was upright and alert, albeit they hadn’t noticed Logan yet. He hummed thoughtfully, noticing a pair of headphones resting on the side’s neck. They were wearing a black hoodie with grey checkered lines decorating the otherwise plain jacket, and what looked to be black, torn jeans.

He toed his way to the shared library. It was an open space, with a large doorway showing all that was inside. Bookshelves upon bookshelves lined the walls, each with vastly differing titles, such as ‘ _Hitchhiker’s Guide to The Galaxy’_ or ‘ _Thomas’ theater rehearsal: 18 th November’_. Two leather arm chairs faced away from the main lounge, instead turned towards the shelves.

Logan took a seat, covering himself entirely from sight just as the door opened with a loud crash.

Oh boy, he was in _so much fucking_ _trouble._

Anxiety had risen with the sole purpose of helping Thomas and he had failed, hadn’t he?! Everyone already knew he was here because he had risen in the commons which were not used to rise up in, and they would notice something was out of place immediately.

He had failed and he was bound to fail again and again until he broke, until he snapped in two and disappeared completely and no one would notice, no one would care because he had failed, he was worthl-

...

...

...

There was someone

_behind_

him.

Anxiety froze, his breath hitching as his body unwillingly stopped like a deer in headlights. He just had to show he wasn’t a threat, he wasn’t going to do anything they might dislike, you’ve just got to-

The floorboards creaked and his own breathing started again, but it was faster, each breath leaping over the next to escape the barriers of his lips. How could the person not hear his heartbeat? It was so loud. He could hear it in his ears, loudly crashing against his skull and threatening to make his head cave in.

...Silence, again. Hesitantly, he turned his head to see if the person was gone, and... there was no one there. He must have just imagined it- it’s what he does, seeing people in the shadows and hearing his name in conversations that weren’t there in the first place. He slumped against the wall behind him, slipping down into a crouch as he released a strained sigh of relief. He could take a moment and then run: he could just leg it to the subconscious, running and running until his legs collapsed and never looking back. He stayed there before; he could do it again, he was sure of it. Anxiety wrapped his hoodie around himself protectively, folding his arms to warm himself from the unnatural cold sending shivers down his spine. Why was it so cold?

*CRASH!!*

Oh no.

Oh _shit_.

The door flung open, crashing against the wall with a loud bang that ricocheted in Anxiety’s head and left his sight spinning. His hands flew up to his ears as he curled up, squishing his eyes shut as he heard the thumping of boots thudding against the wooden floorboards, almost blocking out the sound of a small gasp. It was a high-pitched intake of breath, a small “Oh!” in reaction to the Side that they didn’t know sitting down like he owned the place, slouched against the wall with his hands covering his ears. He, without a doubt, looked like a fool.

And yet, he stayed frozen. He stayed sat down with his hands blocking the sounds of the other person yelling, bringing in even more noise and alerting the other Sides to this curled up piece of flesh and fabric, to laugh at his misfortunes and then act as if he were in the wrong, because that is surely what would happen, there’s no other reason for the Side to yell.

The thud of heavy boots running against wooden floorboards brought him back to the present, his hands curling around his ears even more as Anxiety tried to block out all the noise. The yelling came immediately, shards of different voices slipping through the cracks of his fingers and trickling into his head, oozing through his brain as it examines every spoken word that he could catch with squinted eyes and curled hands. Metaphorically, of course, since his brain doesn’t actually have hands.

...What was happening? He felt a jolt of anxiety shoot down his spine; panic was undoubtedly soon to follow. He didn’t want to have an attack, not right now, not in front of all these people he didn’t know. And he didn’t know, that was the issue. He didn’t know what was happening around him, he didn’t know if he was in danger, immediate or otherwise. He _needed_ to see. Could he open his eyes without any of the others noticing?

It turned out he could. If he was careful and made no other movement to indicate he was even awake then he could squint his eyes open to check his surroundings, if only for a moment. A light-blue Side (where did he get that color from? From what Anxiety could see, the Side wasn’t even wearing anything blue) was, from what he could see in his spot, arguing with a yellow side (that description made a little more sense to him, as the side was wearing yellow gloves). Well, arguing was a strong term for it. They looked like they were having a heated debate, but apart from a few fast hand motions it didn’t seem very violence driven. He hoped it wasn’t. If he strained his ears, the black and grey hoodie-clad Side could hear vague clashing to his left, but in all honesty Anxiety was too scared of being noticed to check what it was. It sounded like metal against metal, however, and he knew that meant danger.

He needed to run, but there was so much going on. He would surely be noticed. The cyan (was it a cyan color or more of a baby blue?) Side had started getting louder- it wasn’t yelling, not just yet, but it would become that if Anxiety didn’t get out fast. The yellow one had remained the same volume, but their voice had become sharper, more violent as they lashed out.

Cyan and Yellow both simultaneously twirled towards the sound of the metal clashing. It had grown more skilled than when he had last heard it; instead of the wild sounds that seemed to follow no pattern a moment before, it was suddenly much more controlled. According to the alarm displayed on both of their faces, however, this was a bad sign. The metal clashing was quickly followed by yells and war cries, although it seemed to be more someone (a Side? It’s got to be; non-sides stay in the subconscious) being overdramatic than a Side actually being hurt.

Cyan and Yellow were turned away now, walking towards the sounds of iron and yells with a fast-paced march. He watched as the one with gloves on reached forwards and chased out of his line of sight, the light blue side following shortly after.

He could run, and they wouldn’t notice.

Now was the perfect time to do so; the noises were gradually getting louder- the metal clashing had long since stopped, but now all the Sides (how many were there? Three? Four?) were shouting so loud all the words slipped through his fingers and jammed themselves into his memory, and he knew that if he stayed much longer the shouting and screams would undoubtedly come back and when they realized he was awake they’d be asking questions and Anxiety hated questions almost as much as he hated loud noises, so he really didn’t want to stay for so long that they’d notice he was awake.

He slowly turned his head, examining his surroundings. It was hard to focus with all the noise and he felt like he was going to snap if he didn’t get out of there fast enough to breathe. He needed to pay attention- his mind was slipping again and he struggled to get a thorough grip on his train of thought.

…Was there…

Was there a person sat in the library?

Well, it looked like a library. There were no doors, and instead there was a large square hole in place of where they should have been placed. A collection of multicolored books lined the built-in shelves that were placed into the wall. Two reddish-brown (a small voice in the back of his head told him the color was maroon) leather armchairs were facing away from him, diagonally facing the shelves. And on the left chair was… was a bespectacled Side watching him.

The Side jerked their head slightly. _Come here_ , Anxiety believed the movement to mean. He glanced to his right, noticing the other Sides were deep into their argument. Their loud, screaming argument. Right. He had wondered where the ringing in his ears had come from.

The purple (what? Where the hell did purple come from? He didn’t even _like_ purple) Side looked back towards the glasses-baring facet. They were still watching him.

So Anxiety did the best thing he could think to do, with his heavy panting blocking his ears and the panic slowly rising up in his chest.

He ran.


End file.
